


Sweet Sixteen

by chuckalicious



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Bill's sick of Stan's bullshit tbh, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie - Freeform, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Stanley Uris, Lesbian Beverly Marsh, Lesbian Caroline Addington, M/M, Richie's an artist and he's chill, Stan's a brat, Well - Freeform, he's just Eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuckalicious/pseuds/chuckalicious
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Stanley Uris is forced to live in France for a summer and twenty-one-year-old Richie Tozier is an abstract painter who becomes Stanley's tour guide.





	1. Chapter One: Stan's Kind of A Brat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley gets fed up with his girlfriend, friends-with-benefits relive old memories, and Bill's mother gives him a not-so-good surprise.

If you’d ask Stanley Uris why he’s such a brat, he wouldn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t think he’s a brat in any particular way and if anyone calls him that, he whines to his parents about how rude they are. It might be the way his parents raised him to be a rich boy with money that he wanted all to himself, or it might be the way his mother, Patricia, told him that poor people are gross and anyone that doesn’t come up to their living standard is a peasant. He treats his friends like they’re servants, making them follow his every move and asking (ordering) them to buy him things. As soon as he turned twelve years old, it was like he suddenly turned into Prince Charming.

On the morning of June 9th, Stan was on his way in his limousine to tea with his best friend, Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, and his girlfriend, Caroline Addington. He fixed his tie in the mirror with a smug expression and attempted to tame his wild curls, but to no avail. Once the vehicle had pulled up to the curb, he swiftly made his way inside the fancy building that was filled with various plants and chairs and spotted the three teens. He greeted Caroline with a kiss on the cheek and then sat down in the reserved chair, grabbing his teacup and taking a sip from it.

“So,” Bill spoke up, looking over at Stan with an eyebrow raised, “You’re late to tea.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, keeping his feet flat on the ground while Beverly tapped hers against the surface, “Bev, would you please stop tapping your feet? It’s annoying.”

“Sure, Stan. Anything for you!” She replied sarcastically while she put her feet down. Stan rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Y’know,” Stan replied, looking up at the ceiling with a concentrated expression, “People that became wealthy because of my family really shouldn’t disrespect me. Oh, sorry, Miss Marsh, I didn’t know you were here!”

“Stan, babe, stop,” Caroline placed her manicured fingers on his shoulder, her blonde hair flowing behind her, “We’re just having fun.”

“Well, I don’t like fun, Caroline,” he shook his head. It was true; ever since he was a kid, doing fun things like going to the park and going swimming with friends, were all boring to him. Fun used to be hanging out with Bill and hiding their relationship from everybody. He absolutely positively hated doing the things other people considered fun, and the only thing he would count as ‘fun’ now would be hanging out with Caroline, but he didn’t even want to do that anymore, “Could you please get your hands off me? I’m uncomfortable.”

With a sigh, the blue-eyed girl refused to move her hand, “We’ve been dating for eight months and you’re uncomfortable because I’m touching your shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Bill spoke up, “No offense Stan, but you’re being kind of unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable?!” Stan shrieked, slapping his girlfriend’s hand off of him and making many hand gestures while he talked, “Bill, what the fuck? Do you know how important I am? Nobody ever calls me unbelievable!”

“Christ, Stanley, shut up!” Beverly exclaimed, setting her teacup down and kicking his leg under the table, “You’re being an asshole.”

With a sarcastic laugh, Stanley stood up from his seat and pointed at Caroline, “Sorry, babe, it’s over. It’s quite obvious you have a crush on Beverly,” he rolled his eyes, making a motion for Bill to follow him while he stomped out out the building, “Let’s go, Bill. We don’t have time to hang out with assholes.”

“So, you broke up with your girlfriend,” Bill spoke, walking through a deserted alleyway with Stan at eight thirty. It was getting darker and nobody could even see them, “Congrats.”

“I know,” Stan sighed, glancing at Bill, the boy with the cute eyes and the cute nose and the cute lips, “I broke up with her because I actually hate her. My parents wanted me to date her to stop seeing you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “I miss that. What we used to have.”

“Me too,” was all that had to be said for Bill to lean in and kiss Stan. Stan pushed Bill up against the brick wall of the building behind them and sighed, tasting the mint from the gum that Denbrough was chewing earlier. They pulled away for a minute to catch their breaths and Stan took a chance to speak, “If my parents found out about this-”

“We’d be dead meat,” Bill laughed, keeping his arms wrapped around the taller boy’s neck while Stan pressed kisses down his jaw.

When Stanley had arrived home with Bill at nine o’clock pm, their hair messy and Bill’s tie in Stanley’s hands, both of their mothers were in the kitchen, wearing dresses and drinking wine out of their expensive glasses. They both turned to look at the two boys and gave them smiles that Bill nor Stan could tell what were for.

“Boys, come here please,” Patricia, Stan’s mother, motioned them towards the table. They gave each other questionable expressions and walked towards the table, taking their seats and gazing at their mothers.

“What’s this about?” Bill asked, grabbing the sparkling water that Stan’s mother had handed him. They all sat silently for a minute or two until Bill’s mother sighed.

Sharon spoke quietly, glancing behind her at Georgie, who was asleep on the couch, “Beverly called me about twenty minutes ago. She said something about two guys that looked remarkably like you two making out in an alleyway. Would you boys happen to know anything about that?”

“Uhhh,” Stan drew out, kicking Bill’s foot underneath the table.

“Nope! N-Nothing of the sort, mother!” Bill exclaimed, “We went shopping for Stan’s bar mitzvah after tea with Bev and Caroline.”

Patricia sighed, hiding her face in her hands, “Stan’s bar mitzvah was three weeks ago. You were there, Bill,” she muttered.

“Well, we’re pretty sure it was you two because Bev said she heard someone moan Stan’s name. Don’t lie to us.”

“Okay!” Stan groaned, “I jerked him off in an alleyway, like, half an hour ago. Happy now?”

Sharon shook her head, “Not after hearing that, no,” she sighed, “Anyway, we have decided that since you guys didn’t listen to us about dating the first time, we’re sending you to France to live with Bill’s aunt.”

“What?!” Bill and Stan both exclaimed simultaneously, “For how long?”

“The whole summer,” Patricia smiled at them, “Pack your bags, boys. We won’t be seeing you for a while!”

“This isn’t fair!” Stan whined, kicking the table, “I have things to do over the summer, mom!”

“Like what? Make out in an alleyway with Bill?” His mother stood up, walking upstairs and letting her high heels click down the hallway. Bill’s mom followed, leaving Bill and Stan to stand in the empty kitchen with Bill buttoning his pants that he forgot to button before they got to Stan’s house.

France.


	2. Chapter Two: Richie Tozier Makes A Big Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie hooks up with too many girls and finally realizes it when he makes a big mistake with a close friend.

“ _Réveille toi, chérie_ ,” An almost-ghostly voice whispered, breath hot against his ear, “ _Wake up, baby._ ”

The raven-haired man had run a hand through his jungle of unbrushed curls, exhaling a groan and sitting up in the large bed. His olive eyes darted over to the clock on the nightstand, showing the time; 10:43am.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, although the woman did not understand what he was saying. She could almost figure it out by the way _he pointed towards the door, “I gotta go.”_

“ _Où allez-vous?”_ She asked, “ _Where are you going?_ ”

_“Travail. Je_ vais _être en retard!”_ He sighed, _“Work. I’m going to be late!”_ Throwing the covers off of his body and slipping on his jeans and his white, wrinkled shirt as quickly as he could before he ran out the door, yelling something completely incoherent to the woman in his bed, “Just fucking get out of my house before my roommate gets home!”

“ _Reviens, Richard!_ ” She called, holding the sheets over her chest, “ _Come back, Richard_!”

Feet scampering across the concrete pavement, vehicles beeping at each other in the street like they were a married couple in a fight, people kissing underneath the bridge by the river. It was all too familiar for Richard Tozier, probably because he walked down Rue Cassini every day except for Saturdays. Saturday nights were for going to the bar by his house with his group of fancy, proper friends. Learning from experience, his friends were not the most proper when they were drunk. Especially Mike, the businessman who was more interested in the business in someone’s pants rather than anything law or business related. Richie was pretty sure Mike had picked up more girls than he had, and he had a lot of them. He couldn’t even remember the name of the girl who was in his bed this morning, but he was guessing it was something bitchy like Anne-Marie. There were a lot of Anne-Marie’s in Paris and a lot of Anne-Marie’s that Richie had slept with. He honestly wouldn’t even be surprised if he was a father to some kid around the town that he would say hello to on the way to his shop.

The doorbell rang and Richie walked into his shop, looking around at his paintings hung up on the wall. There were empty spaces from paintings that had been bought in the previous weeks and they needed to be filled, so he passed a ‘Bonjour’ to his employee, Ben, and walked into the back room where his canvas was. His work-in-progress was sitting on the floor, where he hadn’t left it last night. Suddenly, an employee walked in that Richie recognized as Jacques, the guy who spoke no English.

“ _As-_ tu _bougé ma peinture_?” Richie asked him, motioning towards the canvas on the ground, _“Did you move my painting_?”

“ _Euh, oui, je l'ai fait. Désolé patron, je pensais que c'était fait_ ,” He muttered, and it was quite obvious he was scared, “ _Uh, yeah, I did. Sorry boss, I thought it was done_.”

“ _Ça va, Jacque_ s,” Richie smiled at him, picking up the canvas and placing it on his easel, “ _It’s okay, Jacques_.”

The bell on the counter outside the room dinged, and Jacques walked to the door, turning back around, _“Eh bien, il est l'heure de ma pause. À plus, patron,_ ” He waved, “ _Well, it's time for my break. See ya, boss!_ ”

“ _Au revoir_ ,” He waved back, _“Bye!_ ”

Once Jacques was gone, Richie turned back to his painting and grabbed the paint colors he needed from the shelf behind him. He noticed there wasn’t a purple, so he went out to talk to Ben, who was on the computer ordering new supplies, “D’you have any violet?” He asked, standing in front of the counter. Ben looked up at him with a smile and nodded, grabbing a purple paint container from under the counter and tossing it to him, “ _Merci_ ,” he smiled back, “ _Thanks_!”

As soon as Richie turned back around to go into the back room, Ben shot up in his seat, almost as if he had an idea, “Oh, Richie, I forgot to tell you; On the way here this morning, there were two guys that saw someone carrying your art out of here, and one of them looked very interested in it.”

“Really?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe and quirking an eyebrow when the blonde-haired male nodded, “Which painting was it?”

Ben coughed, “I’m pretty sure it was one of the naked ones. His eyes were, like, huge, and he didn’t look particularly grossed out about it,” he shrugged, “I suggest you find him, he can’t live far away from here, and talk him into buying some of your art. You can never go wrong with more money.”

“That’s true,” He hummed, “I’ll do it later. I gotta finish this painting,” he motioned towards the back room. He started working on his latest piece of abstract artwork. It was a family, except they only had one eye on each head and they were upside down. He had completely forgotten about his painting when one of the girls he hooked up with multiple times, Avril, strolled into the back room and smiled at him.

“Fancy seeing you here, Richie,” she winked, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

Richie smiled at her, putting his paintbrush down and walking towards her, “How’d you find me, Avril?” He asked, toying with the bottom of her blue t-shirt.

“You told me your work hours, silly,” she laughed, brushing her lips against the man’s and smiling when Richie slipped her shirt off quickly, “Are we really hooking up in the back room of your work?” She asked with a sharp inhale of her breath.

“Do you not want to?”

“Hell no,” she shook her head, being pushed against one of the shelves, _“Je veux que tu me détruises_ ,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, almost hungrily, “ _I want you to wreck me._ ”

Oh, Richie wrecked her alright, and almost ruined his painting.

It only occurred to him that weeks later, when Richie and Avril were sitting in his bedroom, Avril’s legs tucked under her thighs, that he made a huge mistake.

“Richie, I’m pregnant.”


End file.
